Artificial Paradise
by hilzanne
Summary: She was unsure when exactly subconsciousness faded into wakefulness, but she became increasingly aware of the intense pain in her head. "I need Donnie." Sweet little Apritello one-shot!


She was unsure when exactly subconsciousness faded into wakefulness, but April slowly started to become aware of the pillow beneath her head, and how closely it resembled concrete. She felt as if rail spikes had been driven through her skull, or like someone had dropped a bowling ball on her while she slept.

Soon she was fully conscious, aware of each wave of pain shooting through her brain. Her eyes remained tightly shut, and she carefully curled her legs up into her torso. She felt as if she were covered with sheets of ice instead of cotton and fleece. Her muscles shivered beneath her frozen skin as she tried to bundle herself closely for warmth.

The pain was unbearable. She wanted to cry, but knew it would only make the headache worse. Her stomach began to churn like the high seas as she turned over in her uncomfortable bed. April carefully opened her eyes, met by the blaring red numbers on her alarm clock. Even the miniscule source of light sent more pain through her head. 5:16AM.

She snapped her eyes shut again, taking slow, cleansing breaths through her nose. Focusing on anything but her nausea helped her ignore it, temporarily at least. April lay in bed for what felt like hours, trying to calm her severely upset stomach. Unfortunately, she was unsuccessful. Her eyes shot open and she threw the covers off in an instant before sprinting down the hall to the bathroom.

April wiped the bitter taste from her mouth and slowly sauntered back to her bed, feeling surprisingly better. After a few more moments of laying in the pitch blackness of her room, she realized her nausea was returning.

_Oh no, _she thought to herself. _I need medicine. Bad._

She whimpered at the thought of the sparsely stocked medicine cabinet in the kitchen. Ibuprofen would not even put a dent in the intense migraine crushing her skull.

Barely opening her eyes, she reached to her bedside table to grab her T-phone. Even with her eyes partially closed, her muscle memory speed-dialed the only person she knew could help her at any time of day.

A groggy voice answered after three rings. "Gughh... Donatello."

"I'm really sick Donnie. My head is killing me... I need medicine," April's frail voice cracked.

Instantly, Donatello went into serious mode. "Nausea or vomiting?"

"Yes to both."

"Pain level?"

"Extreme. Eight out of ten."

"I'll be there in ten minutes." The phone clicked off, and April dropped it out of her hand and onto the floor. She cocooned herself in her favorite thick blanket and breathed slowly through her nose.

As promised, a small knock sounded at her window exactly ten minutes later. Donatello climbed through and padded silently over to the bed, kneeling beside it. He brushed April's sweaty bangs away from her forehead.

"April?" he said in a gentle whisper. "You okay? Have you vomited any more since we talked?"

Her cerulean eyes slowly opened. Donnie was taken aback at how hollow they looked. Dark shadows fell underneath them, making her look deathly.

"Only puked once, thank goodness." Her eyes fell shut again.

He pressed his large hand against her forehead, gauging her internal temperature.

"Do you feel cold, or have chills?" he asked. April nodded her head ever so slightly. "You're running a fever. Have you taken any medicine at all in the past eight hours?" She shook her head no.

Donatello placed a hand on her burning hot cheek. "Have you eaten anything in the past few hours? Was there anything on your stomach when you threw up?"

April gave a small, "No."

Donnie stood up and left the room, but soon returned with a can of Sprite and a thick wool blanket. He cracked open the can of soda, then reached into the bag he had brought with him.

"I've got a couple things I want you to take. The pills are really tiny, so you should be okay. This is Imitrex, and it should help with the headache. Here's some Ibuprofen to bring down that fever, and this one is Phenergan. It will take care of the nausea, but it will also knock you out for a few hours." He carefully sat April up in her bed and handed her the two small pills and Sprite.

"Just a tiny sip," he said as she tossed her head back and downed the medicine.

"Mmm..." April groaned. "It tastes so sweet." She took another small drink of the soda.

Donnie helped lay April back down and pulled the blankets up to her chin. "Well, you vomited just stomach acid, which is incredibly bitter. Sprite is very soothing to the stomach, just be careful not to drink too much. We don't want to overwhelm your already upset stomach."

Donatello tucked the fleece blankets in all the way around April's body before spreading the wool one out over her as well. She sighed quietly.

"Do you need anything else?" he whispered as he crouched down beside her again.

Her normally bright eyes seemed dull and lifeless. "Please don't leave," she breathed. Her small hand reached out from under the covered and brushed Donnie's cheek gently.

They remained looking at one another for a few moments, Donatello relishing her sweet touch. He grabbed her hand with both of his and pressed it between them.

"I'm not going anywhere, April."

A small flash of life shone in her eyes and a small smile crept across her face.

"How about I get you a cool washcloth for you?" he asked.

She closed her eyes and nodded.

When he returned, April was facing the middle of her bed, still curled up in the cocoon of sheets. He sat down on the edge and laid the cool rag across her forehead. She met his hand with hers in a silent gesture of gratitude. Donnie smiled at the redhead. Even though she was miserable with pain, she still made his heart flutter at the lightest touch.

He stood up and walked over to the window. The clouds were becoming streaked with pink and lavender as the sun began to rise. Donatello admired them before pulling the curtains shut so the light would not bother April.

"Don?" said a still weak voice.

He walked back over to the bed and sat down beside April.

"Do you need me to get you anything?"

"No..." she trailed off. "Just... Be with me."

April pulled the top wool blanket back, inviting Donnie to join her in the bed.

"Okay," he whispered as he slid his body under the warm cover. He laid on his side, facing her. She scooted herself closer to him, laying her head against his plastron. Donatello adjusted the washcloth on her forehead as she snuggled into him as much as she could.

"You're warm," she breathed, even though there were a few layers of blankets between their bodies.

Donnie stretched his arm out underneath April's pillow and wrapped the other around her in the blanket cocoon. He began to lightly stroke her messy hair when he had the uncontrollable urge to kiss the top of her head. So he did.

April sighed and pressed herself further into Donatello.

"You starting to feel the medicine work yet?" he whispered.

"My head is feeling kind of fuzzy," she replied quietly.

"You should be falling asleep any minute now, April. And I promise, you'll feel a hundred percent better when you wake up."

She groaned a bit. "Mmm... Donnie..."

"What, April?" he breathed in her ear.

But she simply let out a long breath and fell silent.

Donatello watched her body become still and her breaths became even and deep. He rested his cheek on the top of her messy red hair, breathing in the smell of her minty shampoo. The medicine did not take long to take effect, and April's eyelids soon began to flutter, signaling that she had fallen into REM sleep.

The turtle slightly adjusted his arm under April's pillow. She was so heavily medicated, he doubted dumping her onto the floor would wake her up, but he still moved gingerly next to the young girl. He nuzzled his cheek against her head and closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep as well.

April was floating in a cloud of warmth. A gentle breeze blew across her face in the pitch blackness. She felt no pain, just an odd sensation that her head weighed far too much. She did not dare to open her eyes, just in case the the warmth and painlessness was not real. All of the sudden she felt her bed underneath her, the pillow cradling her heavy skull. And she sensed she was not alone.

Her eyelids slid open with great effort and were met with a dim light struggling to shine through her dark curtains. There was just enough illumination for her to make out the purple-masked face before her.

Donatello's even breaths blew across her face like a cool breeze. His strong arms encased her in warmth along with the layers of blankets surrounding her. April stared at his peaceful expression as he slept. She loved seeing him concentrate on his work or intensely training in the dojo, but hardly ever got to see him so perfectly relaxed. He looked very different.

Beautiful.

April felt the gravity of the medication forcing her eyelids to close again, so she placed her cheek on Donatello's plastron, head right under his chin and allowed herself to drift away on the cloud of unconsciousness once again.


End file.
